Confessions of a Wino

After Mad Cow disease and Foot & Mouth, those of us living in the pig free zone of West Yorkshire are pleased to see an agricultural problem that does not affect us directly.  I started feeling sorry for the pig farmers in Wiltshire until I realised that a sneeze in Mexico was like a butterfly flapping its wings in Hong Kong, or a banker collecting his bonus on Wall Street.  In any case, the impact on the world is (potentially) awesome.

So while I sit indoors in my H1N1 isolation with a super strength face masks in 100 packs, in an ante-pandemic panic order, my only consolation is yet another Spanish wine, a nice Albariño from Virgin Wines at £9.99.

Smelling of perfume (which makes a change from flu), grapefruit, parma violets and the sort of mixed flavours you get from cheese and pickle, this is a dry wine that does well as an aperitif, or with barbecued belly of pork.

A tissue please…..sneeze into it, bin it, wash your hands, drink lots of wine, survive the pandemic (hopefully)…….

I used to live in Bingley, West Yorkshire and frequented Valentino’s many a Friday night.  One of my favourite places for friendly and rustic, if slightly over garlicked and over-buttered fayre.

So when invited back for a birthday party recently, I was interested to see if the old fella was still there.  The welcome was as warm as ever and Valentino remembered me (that’s the thing about an Italian welcome – they are great at pretending they know you, I’m sure he must have wondered who the hell I was.)

Valentino’s was founded in MCMXCV which sounds like a long time ago, but by my reckoning is 1995.  I double checked my Roman maths by going to Google and typing “MCMXCV in Arabic” and the answer was duly computed.  Isn’t Google totally awesome (say this out loud in a nasal teenage American twang).

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Loose end on a Friday night in Batley, West Yorkshire?  Why not try the world famous Frontier Club?  Many a famous name has played the place – even the Grumbleweeds!

Nothing on the particular Friday I was there, so decided to try the restaurant next door – Zucchini.  I heard it is run by the same people as the excellent but smoky (well, used to be before 1 July 07 English smoking ban) Dolce Vita in Birstall, so we expected great things.

I won’t be going back.  The staff were surly, the wine was too warm and the food was average.

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“Put a Yorkshireman in charge of an Italian restaurant???” I said.  “Next, you will be telling me a Swede is being appointed as England Football coach!”

So it came to pass that my predictions for the year 2001 were (as ever) way off the mark, since Martin Pickles bought the Flying Pizza in Leeds and……….well let’s not discuss the other appointment.

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There isn’t much of a theatre scene in Leeds but what there is, is top notch.  We are privileged to know one of the cast of Opera North (although he never gets us tickets any more).  Leeds Grand Theatre is surely the best theatre outside London for architecture and acoustics (especially since the recent improvements).  The West Yorkshire Playhouse is also pretty good for a modern theatre and puts on some interesting modern pieces.

So where to dine before the show then?

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I am reminded of the old joke where a farmer’s son asks his dad how much land he will get for his inheritance. The dad kicks his son in the nuts and says “well there’s a couple of achers to start with”.

To get a Friday night reservation at the Three Acres, required several month’s notice. Was it going to be worth the wait or would I be kicked in the nuts?

The Three Acres to which I refer, is a gastro-pub that nestles beneath Emley Moor transmitter in Shelley, 5 miles south of Huddersfield, West Yorks.  Its reputation reaches much wider than the transmitter’s signals, however.

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